Outcast
by ThePhantominthemists
Summary: Ten years after reclaiming Erebor, Thorin is attacked and captured by a group of men while on a diplomatic trip. Someone set him up and wants him dead. But who? And who is the mysterious woman who comes to is rescue. A dangerous game of politics ensues and the answers to a decades old mystery comes to light. AU, Everyone lives.
1. Capture and Worry

**Yes I know I am back with another new story. I can help which muse strikes me, so please bear with me. Also this story will have depiction of violence and references to situations that may offend some people, most notably slavery. Please no nasty messages if you get offended by these references, just don't continue reading. I love constructive criticism, so please if you see grammar mistakes etc... please feel free to let me know in the comments and I will fix them as quickly as possible. Thanks and please enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

*****Thorin POV*****

**~Somewhere on the Road~**

As he settled in for the night, Thorin checked, for the hundredth time, that the guards were at their posts around the camp and tried to not think about their destination. In all truth he had been putting off this trip for over a year. It had only been ten years since he and the company had reclaimed Erebor, so he had been able to use the continuing recovery of the city as a reason for avoiding this particular diplomatic trip. However with both Erebor's, and their neighboring human city of Dale's, recovery and economy doing so well, he could no longer put this trip off and had finally acceded to Balin's multiple requests and reminders about it.

"How are you doing, lad?" Balin asked as he settled next to him by the fire, the older dwarf being one of the few in the current company that could address him so informally.

The rest of the guards that had been sent along still looked at him, and any of those from the rest of the original company, with a certain amount of awe.

"I know the Grey Mountains,Ered Mithrin in particular, hold both good and bad memories for you," Balin continued , glancing at his long-time friend and King.

"For all of us," Thorin replied with a sigh, "You know today is fifteen years to the day and still no solid answers."

"Thorin," Balin sighed sadly, "Kara…" he stopped as one of the guards walked by on his patrol, knowing that Thorin did not talk about this to everyone.

"I understand your hope, lad,I really do," Balin continued quietly after the guard had moved on out of earshot, "But, as you said,it has been fifteen years."

Thorin turned away, clenching his jaw slightly, signaling an end to that particular conversation.

As it was, even if he had wanted to continue, Balin did not get the chance as Gloin and Bofur, the only other members of the original company to be with them on this trip, joined them a moment later. Bofur was coming to inspect the mining operations and raw ore they would possibly be trading for and Gloin was there to watch over the financial side of any deals made. Balin was there to advise Thorin about any trade deals offered. In all reality Thorin could have sent Balin to make the trade deal, however Lord Varfick son of Vokkag had insisted on meeting with him personally.

"I'm not so sure about these new guards that Dwalin sent with us, Thorin," Gloin grumbled as he settled himself down, all the while eyeing the closest guard cautiously, "They seem too green."

The aforementioned Captain of the Royal Guard had been talked into staying back in Erebor, after many hours of arguing, to aid Fili as Thorin felt he would be of more use there than on a boring trade negotiation.

"Dwalin would have only sent his best to look after Thorin," Bofur stated as he stuffed his pipe, drawing a disbelieving "humph!" from Gloin and an eye roll from Thorin.

"Not that you can't look after yourself, Thorin," Bofur quickly amended after catching his reaction.

"Just go to bed," Thorin replied with a shake of his head, "We still have a long way to go."

"For someone who has put this trip off for over a year, you really seem to be in a hurry to get there,Thorin," Gloin stated questioningly.

However all he got in reply was a glare and stoney silence as Thorin turned to his bedroll.

As they watched him go, each of the other dwarves could not help but think about how much more surly Thorin was getting the closer to the Grey Mountains; causing Gloin and Bofur to wonder why.

* * *

Later that night Thorin was awakened by one of the guards loudly sounding the alarm. However, before he could react, they were overrun by a group of Men. Completely outnumbered, it was not long before they were disarmed and one of the guards killed.

"We better not have just killed him, otherwise the boss is going to kill all of us," one Man growled to another.

"No he won't," the other answered back , "He's not that merciful."

"I think it's just a guard," a third man stated, looking over the group of nine dwarves in front of him, "He is most likely one of them."

"What did the boss want us to do with them?" A fourth one asked.

"We are to capture them and hold onto them until he says otherwise," a fifth man, this one obviously the leader, stated, "We will take them back to town. There we should be able to make a fine profit off of them until the boss says otherwise."

*****F and S POV*****

**~Erebor~**

Sigrid stood in the nursery looking over the sleeping babies in the crib. It had been six years since she and Fili had married and she still could not get over how blessed her life had become. From being a simple bargeman's daughter with little to no prospects, to be courted by, falling in love with and eventually marrying the crown prince of Erebor; it all still seemed like one of the fairytales she use to read to her little sister. Her children were just one more blessing she was told would possibly never happen, as many physicians, both Human and Dwarrow, said that their races were too different.

However, two months ago, she had proved them all wrong by giving Fili not one but two heirs. Twin sons, Fin and Fen. Fin, the eldest, was the spitting image of Fili, even at this young age, with his golden blond hair and dwarven features, though he was going to be longer of limb and taller than other dwarves. Fen looked like her father Bard with his dark brown hair and more human features, though he looked to have more the dwarven stature. What both her boys had in common was their father's Durin blue eyes.

The babies stirred slightly in their crib and Sigrid held her breath, fearing she had woke them. But they just settled back down closer together, causing her to smile. She hoped that they would have the same close relationship that their father and uncle had. With one more soft smile, Sigrid turned to leave the nursery to make sure Fili had gotten up. One of the more amusing things that she had learned about her husband is that he was not a naturally early riser, preferring instead, if there were no pressing duties to see to, to sleep in later.

However, with Thorin away, sleeping in just was not possible as they had all taken on additional responsibilities until the King's return. Sigrid was just moving through the sitting room of their apartments when a knock came to the door. Wondering who could be at the door at this early hour, Sigrid made sure her dressing gown was appropriate before going to answer the summons.

"Yes?" she questioned the guard standing on the other side politely, if a little confused.

"Princess Sigrid, I am sorry to disturb you at this early hour," the dwarf began with a respectful bow of his head, "Is Prince Fili available?"

"I think he is still in bed," she replied, "Is it urgent?"

"Yes, Your Highness," the guard replied.

"Alright," she answered and waved the guard inside, "I will see if he is awake."

"Thank you, Your Highness," the dwarf guard replied with another respectful bow.

Sigrid nodded her head in response and headed for her and Fili's bedchambers.

"Fili," she called softly.

"In here, Love," he answered from their private washroom.

Sigrid felt her face heat slightly as, even after six years of marriage, the affectionate way he spoke to her still made her blush. Heading into the washroom, Sigrid found Fili standing over the wash basin, straightening his hair and braids for the day, wearing only his trousers with his tunics and belt sitting to the side. From her vantage point she could see the large scar on his back that he had received in The Battle of Five Armies. She could not help the horrible tight feeling that came to her chest at the sight of it as it was a constant reminder of how she almost lost him even before their life together had begun.

"You alright, Love?" Fili questioned, meeting her eyes in the mirror with a smile, "You're not still fretting over that old scar are you?"

Sigid smiled back at how he could still read her like an open book. Fili turned and stood in front of her, their height difference, with her being only about two inches taller, was really not very noticable; especially if compared to Kili and his wife Tauriel. Fili gently took her hands in his and placed a light kiss to her knuckles.

"That scar represents what could have been," Fili reminded her gently, "But, thank Mahal, isn't."

Sigrid smiled at the reminder

"Was there something you needed?" Fili asked.

"Oh yes," Sigrid replied, having momentarily forgotten all about the guard, "There is a guard waiting for you. He says it urgent."

Fili sighed and turned back for his tunics.

"I swear, if Dwalin is getting me up early for another time wasting inspection of the armory I am going to go bloody mad," Fili sighed exasperatedly, pulling his tunics over his head before belting them, "he is just in a bad mood because Thorin didn't need him for a simple trade negotiation!"

"The guard is waiting in the sitting room," Sigrid replied with a smile, knowing that Dwalin's bad mood this last month had been a problem for everyone.

"Right, I will see what he wants while you get ready for the day," Fili replied, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before leaving.

Leaving the bedchamber, Fili spotted the guard standing by the door to their apartments.

"_I swear Dwalin had been a pain in my backside ever since Thorin left,"_ Fili thought with a soft sigh as he accepted the guard's respectful bow, "_He better not be bugging me about another blood inspection!"_

"Prince Fili, I am sorry to disturb you at such an early hour," the guard apologized sincerely, "However, Captain Dwalin said it was urgent."

"_Here it comes,"_ Fili thought, slightly cynical.

" A raven arrived from the Grey Mountains this morning," the guard continued, full garnerning Fili's attention, "Lord Varfick stated at King Thorin's party never arrived."

"What!" Fili exclaimed, "They were supposed to arrive there last week! It's been six weeks since they left here!"

"I know, Your Highness," the guard replied hesitantly and Fili had to remind himself that this young guard was not the problem.

Taking a deep breath, Fili turned back to the guard.

"Has my brother been notified yet?" he asked.

"Y...yes your Highness," the guard replied nervously, "Another guard was dispatched by Captain Dwalin to notify Prince Kili and Princess Tauriel at the same time I was sent here."

"Alright, carry a message to my brother," Fili instructed, "Have him and Princess Tauriel meet me and Princess Sigrid in King Thorin's study; please also tell Captain Dwalin and my mother to be there as well as any members of the company you can find."

The guard nodded and, with one more respectful bow, hurried out the door.

"What's going on?" Sigrid asked worriedly, have just come out of the bedchamber, dressed and ready for the day.

"Thorin's company never made it to the Grey Mountains," he answered.

"Oh no," Sigrid gasped. "What are you going to do?"

"Can you have the boy's nanny come early?" Fili asked and Sigrid nodded, "Good then join me in Thorin's study, we need to get on this before word gets out and we have a full blown panic on our hands."

With this agreed to both quickly set about finishing what tasks need to be seen to and the nanny called, then both hurried off to meet the others in Thorin's study, worry troubling their minds.


	2. Slaves

**~Erebor~**

Fili and Sigrid hurried through the halls, heading for Thorin's study at a pace just short of a run.

"_Where could they be?"_ Fili thought to himself, worry already starting to eat away at him as numerous possibilities popped up in his mind.

The most likely one being an attack from a roving orc pack. True there were few left in the area since the battle ten years ago, but you could never discount any possibility.

Upon reaching Thorin's study, and seeing they were the first to arrive, Fili immediately began rifling through the numerous rolled up maps on one of the shelves next to Thorin's desk.

"Fili, what are you looking for?" Sigrid asked from behind him.

"I am looking for…" Fili responded, already up to his shoulders in various maps, "Ah, here it is!"

He brought over a large, rolled up map, motioning for Sigrid to help him clear the desk, before unrolling it and weighing the corners down to keep it in place. The map showed everything from Rivendell to Erebor. Sigrid had seen this map before, but was still amazed every time she got to look at it. One never really understood how vast Mirkwood was or how far north or south the Mist Mountains reached until seeing them laid out like this.

Fili traced his finger along a route marked on the map. It was the route that Thorin and Balin had marked down just before leaving. Fili was just studying the route when the door opened. Dis, his mother, entered first, looking just as worried as he felt behind her came Dwalin with Kili and his wife Tauriel, a wood elf from Mirkwood, coming in last. The family resemblance between Thorin and Dis was very strong, as they both had raven black hair and dark blue eyes.

"Is that the route they planned to take?" Dis asked looking down at the map.

"Yes," Fili answered, once again tracing the marks that began at the Lonely Mountain and ended at Ered Mithrin in the Grey Mountains.

"They had planned the head Northeast, trying to stay out of Mirkwood but not wanting to get too close to the Withered Heath," Fili explained.

"So the best place to start looking is along this route," Kili suggested just as a knock sounded on the door.

Dwalin quickly opened the door to admit the remaining members of the original company along with an unexpected addition. Gimli, Gloin's son, faced his cousins with a look of stubborn determination.

"This concerns my father," Gimli stated before anyone could say anything, "Please don't send me away, Fili. I have to do something!"

Fili studied the younger dwarf briefly before nodding.

"Aye, cousin," he answered, "You have just as much right to be here as anyone else."

"So should we send out search parties along the route first?" Kili asked still studying the map, "Could they have gotten lost or wandered too close to Mirkwood and ended up tangled with those spiders again?"

"No, I don't see them getting lost," Dwalin answered gruffly, looking both worried and angry at the same time, "Balin knew the way and could have probably walked that route blindfolded."

"If they stayed on this route, they would not have gotten close enough to the forest for the spiders to be a problem," Tauriel answered this time, "Since the White Council ran the necromancer out of Dol Guldur, the number of spiders have lessened in the forest."

"Well if they aren't lost and they weren't close enough to the forest to fall amongst the spiders," Dori spoke up, a little confused, "What happened and where are they?"

Fili, Kili and Dwalin all looked at each other, all suddenly thinking the same thing.

"An orc attack is a possibility but seems too convenient," Fili answered, going on instinct, "This feels like…"

"A well planned trap!" Dwalin snarled.

"What!" Dis exclaimed, trying to think of who would do such a thing.

The dwarf kingdoms had all seen better times since the reclaiming of Erebor. However, there had been no small amount of push back when Fili and Kili had declared a daughter of men and an elf, respectively, as their Ones. The older, more traditionally minded dwarves of the court had been scandalized at the announcement and even more angered when Thorin had allowed the marriages to take place.

"Who do you think…" Dis began to ask before Dwalin cut her off.

"Varfick!" he snarled, slamming his fist on the desk, causing the weights holding the map to jump, "I told Thorin to let me go along!"

"Dwalin you can't really think Varfick would do something like this," Dis replied with a shake of her head, "He and Thorin have been friends for years and then there's Kara."

"Thorin hasn't seen Varfick since before the fall of Erebor, and there has been no answers about Kara for fifteen years," Dwalin stated, "People change, Dis, and Varfick practically demanded Thorin come on this trip. You have to admit, it doesn't look good."

Dis nodded, seeing Dwalin's point, but still not liking thinking that an old family friend could turn on them like this and knowing how much this would hurt Thorin if it turned out to be true, especially with the history between the two families.

"I think we need to find Thorin's group before we lay blame," Fili cut in, "Dwalin, I will leave investigating Varfick to you."

Dwalin nodded, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Ori, send a reply to Lord Varfick," Fili addressed the young scribe, "Let him know we are searching for Thorin and that we will keep him updated."

Ori nodded, already writing notes in his ever present journal.

"Everyone else, gather some guards and form search parties," Fili continued, "We have a lot of ground to cover."

With this said Fili began to walk toward the door when his mother stopped him.

"Fili you can't go," she said simply.

"What are you talking about," he replied, shocked that she expected him to not help.

"You rule in Thorin's stead currently and the mountain must always have it's King," She answered, knowing that Fili would chafe at this, but it was how things had to be.

Fili sighed in exasperation, knowing she was right did not make it any easier.

"Kili shouldn't go either," Dwalin stated, drawing a shocked look from the younger prince, "If this is a plot, they could be trying to remove the entire direct line of succession."

Kili made a face at also being made to stay behind, as it was not in his nature to let other people fight his battles but knew that Dwalin was right.

"Fine," Fili answered, "Everyone else get moving and check in regularly."

The rest of the company nodded before heading out, leaving the remaining six to handle things in the mountain.

"Mother I am going to need your help here," Fili said, "You know when this gets out people are going to panic."

Dis nodded already thinking of how to go about keeping people calm.

"One more thing," Kili cut in stopping everyone before they could leave, "Who's Kara?"

Dwalin and Dis looked at each other sadly and Dis' shoulders sagged as if a great weight had just been dropped on her.

"What?" Fili asked.

"Sit down, lads," Dwalin sighed, "It's a long story."

* * *

~**Elsewhere~**

A Dwarf Lord sat in his crumbling halls, waiting for confirmation that his plan had been set in motion. Suddenly, the door behind him opened to admit a trembling servant. It amused him to see the fear that the people of the city held for him, as he took pride in ruling with an iron fist.

"What," he snapped at the servant.

"I...I'm sorry to disturb you, my Lord" the servant stammered out, "b…but a message has arrived for you."

"Fine," the Lord replied shortly, "Send my steward in and get out."

The servant bowed quickly before leaving the room. A moment later the city steward entered, looking very pleased.

"Everything in order?" the Lord questioned, as the Steward was the only one privy to his plans.

"Yes, my Lord," the Steward replied, "The Master has captured Oakenshield's company and has taken them back to Saccure. He wants to know what you want him to do."

"Tell him to hang onto them for the time being, while we wait for things to quiet down," the Lord replied, "There will be too many search parties out for me to travel there just yet. However he better not lose him, I want to kill Oakenshield personally!"

The Steward nodded before bowing his way out of the room. The dwarf Lord smiled evilly to himself as things were going perfectly to plan.

* * *

***Six Months Later***

**~The town of Succure~**

Azira walked into town, leading her pony pulling an empty cart, hoping to be done with her business and leaving town before the markets opened. She curled her lip in disgust as she passed the market square on her way to the town mercantile, expressing her loathing of the slave markets. However, she kept walking, knowing to mind her own business in town. Succure sat in a wide V-shaped valley between the Misty Mountains and the Ettenmoors. Far too close to Mt. Gundabad for most decent peoples taste and therefore was a refuge for all sorts of rough and lawless characters. Finally, arriving at her destination, just down from the marker square, Azira tied her pony and went inside.

Inside a Man stood behind the counter, counting gold and silver pieces into a pouch. As the bell above the door chimed, he quickly dropped the rest of the coins into the pouch and placed it below the counter. As he saw who had come in he grimaced, as Azira was not one of his favorite customers. To be honest, she unnerved him. Always wearing a dark cloak and head scarf with a dark, opaque, veil covering the lower portion of her face. No one he knew had ever seen her face and that alone made him not trust her. However, the woman was a good trapper, bringing in furs that few others could find, so he put up with her for the sake of the money she brought in.

"Ms. Azira, needing your supplies already?" he greeted her, his tone slightly revealing his distaste for her, "I did not realize it was time for you to go back to your trap lines already."

Azira looked at him with no reaction as usual, not really caring what the man thought of her as long as he had what she needed.

"Yes," she replied shortly, handing him her list.

He looked down the list before raising a brow at one item.

"Scrap iron," he questioned, "You trying to get me in trouble with the Blacksmith. He finds out I am taking business away from him…"

"I can always take my business elsewhere," she replied coldly, as he did this same act everytime she asked for that item.

"Fine, as long as it's just between you and me," he replied gathering her items.

Azira paid for her items, but before she could start taking them out the shopkeeper stopped her.

"I have one more thing," he said. "My daughter is getting married next summer."

"How nice for her," Azira replied sarcastically.

"She wants a white, fox fur, stole," the shopkeeper replied tightly, "So I will need you to catch a few more this year."

Azira stared at him calculatingly for a moment.

"That will mean extra traps in special places," she replied, as white foxes tended to be closer to Gundabad, because of the scaps the orcs left, and she was the only one brave enough or stupid enough to trap as close as she did to the mountain.

"Yes yes," he replied with an unconcerned wave of his hand, "I will pay you extra for them."

"Really," Azira replied, now quite interested, "How much?"

They spent the next hour and a half haggling over the cost of the additional furs before settling on a price.

"Always a pleasure to do business with you," she said dryly slapping his hand with hers settling the agreement.

The shopkeeper rolled his eyes before turning back to his stock rooms.

"Slave!" he yelled through the door and a short figure appeared from the back.

To Azira's surprise it was a dwarf. He wore a brown fur lined hat over his brown hair,a long, thin, mustache and a neatly trimmed goatee. Azira stared at him in shock, as dwarves never came this far north.

"Yes, sir," he answered in a slightly bitter tone.

"Help the lady out with her items," the shopkeeper ordered, jerking his head in Azira's direction, "Then get back to organizing the stock rooms."

The dwarf approached Azira carefully, obviously puzzled by the way she was dressed.

"This way," she said softly, hating being forced to use a slave.

She then picked up a few of her items and led the way to her pony and cart. She then stood to one side and let the dwarf arrange the items, as he had obviously done this before.

"Dwarves don't normally come this far north," she said softly.

"Aye," the dwarf replied, eyeing her suspiciously, "It wasn't by choice, believe me"

That told Azira all she needed to know as the town Master was known for abducting people to sell on the slave markets.

"What's your name?" she asked, "I'm Azira."

The dwarf cocked his head to the side and studied her for a moment before smiling.

"Bofur, ma'am," he replied.

"Just Azira, you don't have to call me ma'am," she replied, palming a gold piece before slipping it into his hand, "Don't let him find that."

Bofur nodded, slipping the gold piece into his pocket with a grateful nod.

"Good luck, Bofur," she said before taking the pony's reins and turning to leave, hoping the gold piece would be a start for him to be able to buy his freedom.

Azira shook her head, still shocked to see a dwarf this far north, as they did not come here with Gundabad so close. Finally, she sighed knowing that she had done all she could in giving Bofur the money. Suddenly, movement ahead of her caught her attention, pulling her out of her thoughts. Lifting her head, she stopped and groaned aloud at what she saw. Because of how long the shopkeeper had dallied in settling on the price of the additional furs, the markets were now fully open and a large crowd now stood between her and the other side of the market square.

With another sigh, Azira squared her shoulders and began pushing her way carefully through the crowd, ignoring all the glares and rude comments directed her way. She was halfway through when a loud shout caught her attention. "Come now folks," one of the auctioneers called in a loud voice, " This fine, strong, dwarf is worth far more than what is being offered." Azira's turned to this comment and then stopped in her tracks, causing the pony to snort unhappily. However Azira paid her no mind, for her attention was on the auction block. For there stood Thorin Oakenshield with his head held high, glaring out at the crowd.

"_Great!"_ Azira thought angrily, "_Just what I needed!"_


	3. Dead?

**~Succure~**

Azira sighed angrily and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes tightly, now wishing with all her heart that she had not come into town.

"_Someone seems to have a sense of humor today,"_ she thought bitterly and swore she could almost hear the Valar snickering at her plight.

Opening her eyes, she looked toward the edge of the crowd and the road beyond, telling herself to keep walking, that this was none of her business.

"Come on folks," the auctioneers voice cut through the chill fall air, "who will give me two gold for the fine, strong, dwarf."

Azira took another step, trying to ignore her guilty conscious that was now plaguing her.

"_I don't need to get involved in this,"_ she thought to herself.

"I'll give you one gold," a man yelled out and Azira felt her burden of guilt double.

"Come on, he's worth more than that,' the auctioneer called out, "He's strong, a trained blacksmith and skilled with a sword I am told. Give me one gold and ten silver."

"Trained blacksmith," the town blacksmith yelled out derisively, "Just what I need, more competition!"

The crowd laughed at this taunting remark, causing the auctioneer to roll his eyes.

"I will give you one gold and two silver," another man yelled out and Azira stopped in her tracks, having recognized the voices of the two men bidding.

Hoping she was wrong, Azira turned and looked toward the two bidders only to have her suspicions confirmed. The men bidding owned the two biggest fighting rings in town. The fights were staged just to the north and were brutal, bloody and often fatal to one or more of the combatants.

Azira sighed again, as her guilty conscious just would not let her walk away.

"No more bidders?" the auctioneer asked, obviously put out by the lack of interest, "Fine, going once… going twice…"

"_It's now or never," _she thought to herself.

"Going…"

"Ten gold!" Azira yelled out, causing the crowd to turn and look at her in surprise.

The auctioneer stared in shock for a moment and even Thorin's eyes turned toward her for a second before looking away.

"T...t...ten gold," the auctioneer stuttered before recovering his composure, "Ten gold, right! Finally someone sees the worth of this fine dwarf."

Azira just kept her eyes fixed on the auctioneer, ignoring the many stares and few remarks directed her way.

"Any more bidders," the auctioneer called out, knowing there would be none, as the price was now far too high, "Going once… Going twice… Going… Sold to the lady in the back! Settle up at the front please."

Azira turned, tied her pony to a nearby hitching post and grabbed her money pouch from a pocket on the inside of her cloak.

"_Everything is going to be alright,"_ she thought, trying to calm herself, not happy at being forced into this situation, "_This could be a way to pay back the debt…"_

She stopped herself, not wanting to think about what she had been responsible for fifteen years ago and the lives it had cost.

A guard led Thorin off the stage and toward the coin changer's table. As he walked, the chain that kept his hands shackled to his waist chafed him through the thin, plain, tunic he had been given to wear after his finer clothes had been taken from him. The chain annoyed him almost as much as the iron slave collar locked around his neck. As he had stood on the auction block, Thorin had forced himself to ignore the pain that throbbed in his back from the beating he had received two nights prior and refused to think about the circumstances that had brought it on. Making his way down the stairs after the guard, Thorin watched the woman that had purchased him make her way through the crowd and was immediately puzzled by her appearance.

First of all, she was significantly shorter than anyone else in the crowd, though taller than a typical dwarrowdam. Though he himself was tall for a dwarf, the daughters of men were usually still taller than him. This woman however, as he saw when she stood on the opposite side of the coin changer's table from him, was shorter by at least two inches. Secondly her state of dress threw him off, as was dressed as a woman of Harad. She wore a long, black, cloak over a long, black, tunic, belted at the waist, close fitting, black, trousers tucked into tall, black boots. The lower portion of her face was covered by a black, opaque, veil with a black scarf wrapped around her head and under her chin, keeping the bottom of the veil tucked back against her chin and neck. The only thing visible of her face were her eyes, or would have been had they not been hidden under the shadow of her cloak's hood.

"Ah, Ms. Azira," the coin changer greeted in a slightly shocked tone, "This is a… Surprise."

Azira's only answer was to hand the man her payment, grimacing slightly at the dent this would put in her savings.

"Any particular reason for your purchase? Companion, bedmate maybe?" the coin changer asked with a waggle of his eyebrows, his lewd suggestion irritating Thorin.

He may not know the woman, but a Dwarrow would never had made such a suggestion to a Dam.

"Maybe just a snack for your Beast," the coin changer continued, a look of fear crossing his face as he looked around, "You didn't bring it into town with you?"

"No," was the only answer he got as Azira accepted a small leather pack from the auctioneer before turning to lead the guard back over to her pony.

The coin changers last words puzzled Thorin.

"_What did he mean by her _Beast_?"_ he wondered as the guard tied the rope attached to the collar around his neck to the back of the woman's pony cart.

"Better watch this one," the guard cautioned before walking away, "He's self-entitled and has a bit of a temper."

Thorin glared at the man but the woman only nodded before untying the pony and slowly making her way through the crowd, giving Thorin no choice but to follow. As they reached the edge of the crowd and started down the road heading out of town Thorin began to worry about what had happened to the rest of his company, as he had not seen any of them for six months since they had all been separated and sold to different people. Staring at the back of the woman's head, he swore that somehow he would escape and find a way to rescue his people.

**~Erebor~**

Fili strode into Thorin's study, taking the Raven Crown from his head and carefully placed it on a shelf by the mantel before collapsing into a chair by the fire. Six months, he could not believe it had been six months and the only sign they had found of Thorin's company was the evidence of an ambush and a hastily buried body of a guard on their route. He sat with his head in his hands for a moment trying to decide what to do next when there was a quick knock at the door.

"Enter," he answered with a sigh, not really wanting to deal with anything else today, but knew that Thorin would expect him to keep pushing on in his absence.

The door opened and Fili steeled himself for another royal courtier or counselor wanting a moment of his time. However, what he got was a pleasant surprise as Sigrid walked in with their nanny right behind her, each woman carrying one of his now eight months old sons. The boys upon seeing their father smiled and gurgled happily, with Fin reaching for him with outstretched arms as Fen bounced happily on his nanny's hip and tugged on a handful of her hair.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise," Fili said with a tired smile as he took Fin from Sigrid.

"Well, since you were too busy to join us for breakfast, we," Sigrid said smiling at the boys as Fin settled happily on Fili's lap, reaching up to play with one of his Father's many braids, "decided to bring you lunch."

This said, Sigrid turned to take Fen from his nanny who Fili could see was also carrying a large basket on her other arm.

"Thank you, Gilda," Sigrid said as the nanny quickly set the basket on the desk.

"Do you need anything else, your highness," Gilda asked.

"Not right now, Gilda," Sigrid replied with a smile, even after six years of being a princess she still had a hard time leaving things to servants, "You can go, I'm sure lunch should be served in the dining hall by now."

Gilda bowed before letting herself out, leaving the prince and princess with their children.

Sigrid put Fen on the throw rug by Fili's feet, knowing his father would watch that he did not get too close to the fire, and began getting the food from the basket.

"So, how did it go?" Sigrid asked, knowing Fili had been tied up in meetings with representatives from the major dwarf clans, "Any news on the search?"

Sigrid turned to look at Fili when he did not answer. Though he sat watching his sons, Fili had a sad, faraway, look on his face.

"Fili?" Sigrid said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, Love… it's just…" Fili sighed, rubbing his face roughly with one hand, "They want me to officially take the crown as King, effectively declaring Thorin and his party dead."

Sigrid grimaced at this, not even able to fathom how hard this was for her husband. She knew that Fili and Kili looked upon Thorin as a father as he had raised them since their own father's death.

"It's only been six months and yet they are already prepared to move on," Fili ground out angrily, "It's just… I don't know what to do!"

At his father's outburst, Fin made let out a confused gurgle causing Fili to look down at him. Fili sighed as his son looked up at him with trusting blue eyes before placing the end of one of his father's braids, that he had finally managed to grab ahold of, into his mouth. Sigrid gently cupped Fili's cheek, causing him to look up at her as she bent over him.

"Thorin trained you for this eventuality and he would be so proud of how you have carried on in his absence," Sigrid replied, trying to reassure him, "Whatever you decide I will support you all the way."

Fili reached up and cupped the back of her head, pulling her down until their foreheads touched. He then closed his eyes with a sigh, soaking in her gentle, supportive, presence.

"Thank you, Sigrid," he replied softly, beyond grateful for her gentle words.

She smiled back at him and he leaned up, bringing their faces closer together. However, when their lips were but a hair's breadth apart, a loud knock sounded at the door.

"What now!" Fili groaned, pulling back and looking toward the door, "Enter!"

A very hairied guard entered, his look putting Fili on edge.

"I am sorry to disturb you my Lord, my Lady," the guard said with a quick bow to each, "But Prince Fili, you are needed at the gate immediately."

Fili and Sigrid looked at each other worriedly before Fili rose, placing Fin on the floor next to his brother and began to follow the guard out.

"Sigrid, I don't know what's going on," Fili said quickly, turning back to her before leaving, "But it would probably be better if you stood here with our sons."

Sigrid nodded in agreement before giving him a quick kiss and handed him his weapons that had been hanging on the back of Thorin's desk chair.

"Be careful," she said softly to which Fili nodded before following the guard out the door.

Strapping on his belt with his dual swords, Fili followed the guard through the halls at a fast pace.

"_What could be wrong now?!"_ he thought as they rounded another turn.

As they got closer to the gate a loud commotion could be heard.

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" Fili heard a voice that sounded like Dwalin shout.

Fili rounded the last turn and the gate came into full view. There stood Dwalin surrounded by both his own guards and ones unfamiliar to Fili. Dwalin had a shorter dwarf pinned against the wall, literally shouting in his face.

"Where are who, Dwalin?" the shorter dwarf shouted back, looking just as angry however appearing smart enough to not be reaching for the battle axe strapped to his back.

"MY BROTHER! THORIN!" Dwalin growled back, his volume not lessening even one pinch, "WHERE ARE THEY!"

"What happened?" Fili questioned, trying to figure things out before blood was spilt.

"I...I...I...I don't know," the guard stuttered, "I was about to come announce that Lord Varfick of the Grey Mountains had arrived when Captain Dwalin just grabbed him off his pony!"

"Dwalin, I don't have any idea!" the shorter dwarf, Lord Varfick Fili assumed, shouted back.

"Dwalin, come on, let him speak," Fili head his mother's voice and saw her step up and put a hand on Dwalin's arm.

Seeing his mother, Fili began to push his way through the crowd which began to part upon seeing him. As he reached the center, he saw Kili and Tauriel were there as well doing their best to calm the situation down. Dwalin looked at Dis for a moment before letting Varfick go.

"Thank you, Lady Dis," Lord Varfick answered with a sigh, signaling to his guards to stand down.

"Don't thank me yet," she snarled at him, "Because if I find out you had something to do with this, I will cut your beard off myself."

"Alright everyone, lets just calm down and go back to your duties," Fili then addressed the gathered crowd before turning to his mother, "We should take this to a more private setting."

Dis nodded before leading all of them up a floor to the closest unused room. It was an old conference room that had yet to be refurbished in which some old chairs had been stored.

After having a servant come and laid a fire, both sides dismissed the guards.

"You had better start talking," Dwalin snarled.

"Good to see you have not changed any, Dwalin," Varfick replied, brushing some dust off the nearest chair before sitting, "No matter what you may think, I had nothing to do with this."

Dwalin snorted derisively, obviously not believing him.

"Dwalin, Dis, I swear on my parents graves," Varfick replied fervently, "I swear on Kara's."

Dwalin and Dis froze, looking at the dwarf lord who seemed to age before their eyes at this statement.

"Kara," Dis replied, looking shocked, "You never believed she was dead."

"Well, new evidence has been brought to light," Varfick answered softly, looking as if his last hope had been extinguished, "And I can no longer deny the truth."

"Wait, wait," Kili cut in, confused, "Can someone explain what's going on?"

He then turned to Varfick.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Kili, this is Lord Varfick son of Vokkag of Ered Mithrin," Dis replied, "He's Kara's older brother."


	4. Evidence

**Hey everyone, this chapter is pretty long, but a lot had to happen. I hope you all like it, please leave me a review. Also if you are following my other story Firebringer, it is now updated as well and you have two new chapters to read.**

* * *

**~Erebor~**

Dwalin scoffed, still looking a Varfick in disbelief.

"So, just because you finally believe what everyone else has suspected for the last fifteen years, we are supposed to be convinced you had nothing to do with this abduction," Dwalin growled with a roll of his eyes.

Varfick stiffened at his tone and words, turning to look at Erebor's Warchief with anger burning in his eyes.

"Maybe for some reason you blame Thorin for Kara and your parent's deaths," Dwalin continued, unaffected by the hateful look he was receiving.

Varfick rose and stalked over to Dwalin, glaring at him all the while. Fili and Kili looked at each other worriedly, unsure if this was one fight they wanted to get in the middle of. For even though Varfick was a good five inches shorter than Dwalin, he was just as broad of shoulder and they would almost guarantee that the double sided battle axe he carried on his back was not for show.

"What more do you want Dwalin," Varfick snarled, fists clenched tight in anger, "You want to lock me up?"

"I've thought about," Dwalin growled back.

"Fine! Here!" Varfick snapped, suddenly thrusting his hands toward him; as if to be shackled, "Lock me up then! But I swear to you, I had NOTHING to do with it!"

"Then why did you insist that Thorin come personally?" Dwalin questioned.

"Because the evidence I found should not exactly be sent by raven," Varfick shouted.

"Okay, that's enough," Dis finally stepped in to keep the two dwarrow from coming to blows, "What evidence Varfick?"

Varfick shot Dwalin one more furious glare before turning away with a sigh. He then reached into his coat and pulled out a leather drawstring pouch about the size of his fist.

He open the pouch and gently removed a handkerchief that looked to be completely covered in an old blood stain. Varfick carefully unfolded the handkerchief, revealing the three items inside. The others gasped at what he had, their reactions ranging from anger to disgust.

"Like I said," Varfick stated softly, staring at the items in his hand with a mixture of disgust, anger, and terrible sadness, "Not something I could simply send by raven.

"Alright, I believe you… for now," Dwalin grumbled, angered by the items in Varfick's hands.

True he had seen worse while investigating crimes in the Blue Mountains and on the quest, but it still did not make it any easier especially when it dealt with someone he knew.

"I'm not gonna lock you up," Dwalin stated, "However, I want you where I can keep an eye on you. And if so much as one hair is harmed in Balin's beard, and you are involved, you are gonna wish I had locked you up!"

"Fine, I was planning on staying until Thorin was found anyway," Varfick replied, "My wife can run Ered Mithrin as well, if not better in some respects, as I can."

With this stated, everyone seemed to relax a bit, as it seemed that Dwalin and Varfick were not going to try and kill each other for the time being.

"Okay, tell me how we are going to find Thorin?" Varfick asked, placing the items back in their pouch and sitting down.

Fili looked at the dwarf lord and sighed knowing that he was not going to be eating lunch with his family that day.

**~Saccure~**

Azira moved as quickly as she could through the crowd, wanting nothing more than to leave town and trying to ignore the footsteps of the one that now followed her. A trip into town was always a headache and today was now doubly so.

"_Why me!"_ she thought taking a quick glance over her shoulder at the dwarf that was now tied to her pony cart before turning back forward with an exasperated sigh.

She really did not need this frustration, as she had been up before dawn and had left her cottage at sunrise. The walk into town took about four hours and it was now close to noon, meaning she would not get home until much closer to evening than she liked. Finally getting through the crowded market square she started down the road on the other side, only breathing a sigh of relief when reached the edge of town.

Thorin noticed the woman glance back at him before she turned back around and maneuvered them quickly through the crowd. He could not tell whether or not she carried any weapons on her beyond the strange weapon lashed to the side of her pony. It was a weapon he had rarely seen, a double sided spear known as a double scimitar, with a longer blade on top than on bottom. The way it was lashed to the pony, being so that it would come away with a firm pull, told him she probably knew how to use the weapon. This made him even more wary of her, as he had only seen a handful of people outside the Haradrim use such a weapon. Haradrim women were not to be trusted, most of them being spies and assassins.

They had just passed the edge of town when Azira noticed something was amiss, as she could hear additional footsteps behind them.

"Well, well, well," said a voice and Azira clenched her jaw in frustration, "Look who finally came down from her high horse and is playing in the dirt with the rest of us."

Azira stopped as two Men stepped out of the trees on either side of the road in front of her. With a sigh, she turned to face the speaker as he pushed Thorin out of his way as he passed.

"What do you want," she snapped.

Thorin glared at the Man, as he was one of the men that had abducted him and his comrades. He was tall with sandy blonde hair and light blue eyes.

"Oh, not very happy today, are we?" he addressed Azira with a mocking smile, "You know, Azira, if you would curb that sharp tongue of yours you would not have to pay for your bedmates."

He then turned and looked Thorin up and down with a sneer.

"You would know more about that then I, Joss" Azira responded icily causing him to turn back toward her.

"You never learn, do you?" he said lowly.

"Do you?" she growled and Thorin could just barely see her reaching for something under her cloak.

"Don't be like that," Joss replied, trying another tactic, "Why don't you come back into town and we could really get to know each other."

"What's the matter, Joss," she replied in a disgusted tone, "Not enough whores in town to keep you satisfied. You now have to proposition those who are NOT INTERESTED!"

"It wasn't a request," he growled, grabbing the collar of her cloak, "I think we should talk."

Even though Thorin did not know or trust this woman, it went against his very nature to see one being manhandled and he struggled to get out of his shackles to help. However, in a movement he would have missed had he not been watching, the woman suddenly whipped out a short bladed scimitar from under her cloak and pressed the point under the man's chin causing him to freeze instantly.

"You wanna talk, Joss? How about we talk about manners?" she snarled dangerously, pressing the point of her scimitar closer to his throat, "How about we start with keeping our hands to ourselves, unless you want to lose it!"

Joss glared down at her, obviously weighing his options, before releasing her and backing up a step.

"My Father will hear about this," he spat.

"I'm sure," she replied with equal venom.

"What's going on here," another voice cut through the tension.

Thorin turned, hatred running through him, to face the man that had lead the group that had captured him.

"Nothing, Master," Azira addressed the Town Master and placed her scimitar back in it sheath at her side, "Just having a conversation with your son on proper manners."

"There will be no brawling in my streets," the Master snapped.

"I was just heading home," Azira responded.

"Fine," the Master snapped, glaring at Azira, "Just remember to keep that beast of yours out of town."

Azira acknowledged this with dip of her head before turning to leave.

"And you," he snarled at his son, "Don't you have something to do?"

"I guess I do," Joss responded, casting one more hateful glare at Azira's departing back.

Azira pushed past the two men in the street before her and continued out of town. She did not relax her vigilance until they were few more miles down the road. Finally, about noon, she stopped beside a large tree that was split and charred, clearly having been hit by lightning. Thorin watched as she stopped and looked around, seeming to be looking for something before letting out a frustrated sigh.

"Of course," she grumbled, obviously not finding what she was looking for.

Suddenly, she gave a long, high pitched, whistle. Thorin stared at her, tension curling in his stomach as he wondered who or what she was summoning. When there appeared to be no answer to her first summons, she whistled again, tapping her fingers in an irritated fashion on the rail of the cart.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," a feminine voice that was more growl than anything called back after a third whistle.

"Could you hurry up," Azira yelled back, "I am already tired and we still have a long walk home."

"It's not my fault you're late," the voice called back, sounding like a grouchy tweenager.

"I got held up," Azira replied, "Where were you anyway?"

Thorin could hear rustling and cracking as if something large was pushing its way through the bushes to the side of the road.

"I was napping in the sun," the voice replied, much closer now, "These warm fall days are not going to last, you know."

With this said the owner of the voice pushed their way out of the bushes and Thorin stared in shock.

There before him stood a black warg and Thorin was painfully aware that he was shackled and defenseless, without so much as a dagger to protect himself. The Warg turned and looked at him with bright, yellow eyes before cocking its head in surprise at the sight of him.

"Oh, what's this," it growled, a wolfy smile coming to its face, "You brought me a snack."

The Warg took a step toward him and Thorin braced himself for the attack.

"No, Nightmare," Azira called to her, "He's not a snack."

"Then what is he," the Warg asked in confusion.

"He's uh…" Azira responded, tuning to look at Thorin before sighing, "An unforeseen complication."

"Uh huh," Nightmare responded uncertainly.

"I'll explain on the way," Azira replied.

Thorin studied both the woman and the Warg as they started back down the road. At least he had one question answered, as this Warg was most likely the _**Beast**_ the townsfolk were referring to. Though it was smaller than any Warg he had ever seen, being only the same size as the pony pulling the cart, where as most Wargs were the size of a full grown horse.

"_Probably a runt,"_ Thorin thought to himself.

However, it made him wonder if the woman was mad for keeping such company, as Wargs were vicious, evil creatures.

"Oh, are you kidding me!" he suddenly heard the Warg exclaim and looking back at him before being shushed by the woman, "Okay, what do you want to do."

The woman went on to explain in a frustratingly low voice, low enough that Thorin could not make out what was said.

Suddenly, a few minutes later, the woman stopped the cart in the middle of the road and sighed.

"Nightmare, would you take care of that," she said in an irritated tone of voice and the Warg turned back toward Thorin.

"Oh, I get a snack after all," it exclaimed and Thorin thought for sure that it was going to attack him.

"What is it with you and wanting to eat people?!" the woman exclaimed and the Warg looked at her in confusion.

"I'm a Warg," it replied as if that explained everything.

With that, the Warg turn and, to Thorin's surprise, trotted off back down the road with a flick of her tail. A few seconds later, the screams of men could be heard followed by the vicious snarl and bark of the Warg.

"They never learn," the woman said with a sigh before turning and starting back down the road.

They were joined by the Warg again a few minutes later.

"That was fun," it said with a bark of laughter.

"You didn't eat them, did you?" the woman asked.

"Nah," the Warg replied with a sniff, "I don't like junk food,"

This drew a snort of laughter from the woman and Thorin watched in disbelief as she ruffled the fur between the Wargs ears.

They continued down the road for about two more hours before turning off onto what looked like a little used path that followed a wide, slow moving river. Judging by the sun, it was about one o'clock when they finally stopped in a clearing and the woman went to fill a couple of water skins before coming back and grabbing a couple of leather pouches from the bags on the pony. She then turned and approached him cautiously, as if she knew him to be a threat.

"I am going to unlock your hands, don't try anything," she said and he noticed her strange accent for the first time.

It was as if she were imitating the accent of a Haradrim woman. It was close, but still off somehow.

As she unlocked his hands, Thorin noticed the Warg was watching them closely and decided that now was not the time to try and escape, he would have to wait and bide his time. She then handed him a water skin and one of the pouches she had retrieved. Inside her found an assortment of nuts with dried berries and some strips of dried meat. Hardly a hearty meal, but, having not eaten in two days, Thorin was grateful for what he was given. With their meager lunch eaten, the woman once again shackled his hands and they started back down the path. It was a little after four in the evening when they came to an old, but sturdy bridge over the river. After crossing, Thorin could see a small cottage sitting in a clearing. The grass grew tall around the small dwelling, though it was cut short to about ten feet from the door. He could also see a barn and a small chicken coop.

"YAY! We're home!" the Warg suddenly exclaimed before taking off at a full sprint through the tall grass, jumping up every now and then to snap at grasshoppers and late season butterflies that tried to flutter out of its way.

When they caught up to it, the Warg was laying on its back in the short cut grass in front of the cottage, panting. It rolled over to look at them from upside down as they approached, its tongue lolling out the top of its mouth instead of the bottom. This drew a laugh from the woman.

"Still just a pup," she said laughing with a shake of her head.

She then lead the pony into the barn, leaving the Warg outside in the grass. She first unharnessed the pony from the cart and tied it out of the way before turning to Thorin.

"You will help me unload the cart," she ordered, approaching him with the key in hand, and, with the Warg still outside, Thorin knew this was his chance.

So, when the woman unlocked both his hands, he suddenly changed at her, grabbing for the key. He hoped she would give up easily, as he hated the idea that he might hurt her but his men's lives could depend on him getting away. She stumbled back in surprise as his charge and dropped the key to the ground, however, before he was able to grab it, she recovered enough to kick it out of reach and into a nearby stall. Thorin turned to grab the weapon still lashed to the nearby pony's side, but before he could the woman grabbed and pulled him away; causing them to stumble and she hit the wall with a loud grunt.

As she continued to fight him, Thorin finally got ahold of both of her hands, pinning them against the wall over her head. He then reached under her cloak for the short bladed scimitar on her hip.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, King Under the Mountain," she suddenly snarled just as his fingers brushed the hilt of the blade.

Thorin's head snapped up and he froze at her use of his formal title.

"_She knows who I am!_ He thought in surprise and, as her hood had been knocked off in the scuffle, found himself staring into a pair of dark green, very angry, eyes.

However, his moment of shock cost him dearly, as the only warning he got a second later was a vicious, bone chilling snarl, before he was thrown to the floor of the barn by a heavy weight tackling him from the side.

As he rolled on to his back, Thorin was suddenly pinned by a large paw on his chest. He then found himself looking up into the bright, yellow eyes of the Warg.

"Touch my Alpha again," it snarled right in Thorin's face, "I. DARE. YOU!"

Thorin lay very still, knowing that any movement could be his last.

"Alright, Nightmare," the woman said, sounding a little out of breath and a Thorin then heard the unmistakable sound of a sword leaving its sheath.

"Move," the woman tapped the Warg on its shoulder with her free and it moved to the side.

She then placed the tip of her scimitar under his chin as she knelt on one knee next to him.

"Now that wasn't very wise, now was it?" she asked rhetorically.

"You know who I am," Thorin snarled up at her, refusing to show this woman, or her beast, any fear.

"Yes, your highness," she replied sarcastically, "I know who you are."

"Then you know that if you kill me…" Thorin stopped when the woman started to laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, King Under the Mountain," the woman replied, still laughing, "We're not going to kill you."

The woman then stood up and sheathed her scimitar and motioned for him to get up as well.

"Who are you," he demanded as he rose to his feet, "And what do you plan to do with me then."

"My name's Azira and her's is Nightmare," She responded, motioning to the Warg, who snarled at him again, "And we are going to help you get back to your mountain."

Thorin stared at the woman in disbelief.

"You are going to help me?" he asked not believing what he had just heard.

"Yes," the woman named Azira responded, "And in return you can do everyone a favor by staying there!"


	5. The Plan

**~Saccure~**

Thorin continued to stare at the woman as she straightened her cloak and headscarf, still suspicious of her motives.

"You want to help me?" he asked, "Why?"

"My reasons are my own," she replied evasively causing Thorin to glare at her.

"Listen, your highness," Azira sighed in frustration making the title sound more like an insult, "I have no desire to see you killed. If I had, I would have left you to be bought by the fight organizers."

He studied her for a moment, catching the sincerity in her words through the sarcasm.

"Fine," he growled, looking away from her.

Trust was not something that came easy to Thorin, having been betrayed too many times by those he thought were allies.

"Do you at least have a plan?" he asked lowly.

"Yes," she replied moving to retrieve the key from the stall where she had kicked it.

"Well," Thorin growled impatiently when she did not elaborate, "What is it?"

"To get this cart unloaded and Goldie bedded down," she replied in irritation, gesturing to where the dark palomino pony stood, still tied and in its tack, "Preferably before the sun sets."

With this said, Azira produced another key from her pocket and walked around to a door behind Thorin and unlocked it. Thorin turned as Azira walked behind him, not trusting her enough to turn his back to her, and ground his teeth in frustration at her response.

"You don't have a plan," he growled, "Do you?"

"I told you my plan," she responded as she pulled a sled-like contraption out of the room.

"What!" Thorin exclaimed.

"Listen," Azira cut him off, "We have one hour, maybe two before the sun sets. And I, for one, would like to be inside before nightfall. Not all the creatures that roam these woods are friendly."

Thorin stood and watched her for a moment as she unloaded what looked to be bundles of scrap iron from the cart to the sled before instructing Nightmare to pull it away. With a final, irritated, sigh, Thorin pitched in to help knowing he probably would not get any answers until they were done.

* * *

Finally, just as the sun was setting, they finished bedding the pony down and left the barn with Azira locking the door behind her.

"May I, Alpha?" Nightmare asked, looking toward the woods eagerly.

"Don't be out too long," Azira instructed, "And be careful."

"Yes, Alpha, I will," Nightmare answered before running off.

Azira then grabbed a lantern hanging next to the door, lit it, then lead the way to the small cottage. Upon entering, Azira went about her normal routine. Lighting a couple more lanterns and adding some more wood to the smoldering coals in the fireplace. Finally, she hung her cloak next to the fireplace and turned to check the stove that she had banked before leaving that morning; pleased to find the fire inside still smoldering as well. Adding more wood, she pulled two large pots from the back of the stove.

"Well, come in and close the door," she instructed as she turned to see Thorin still standing in the doorway.

Thorin stepped in, looking around the tiny room. To his right pushed in the back corner was a small bed. To his left was a small fireplace with a table and a couple of chairs that had seen better days. To the right of the fireplace was an odd pile of old blankets. Directly in front of him was a doorway and to the left was the cast iron stove Azira was currently working over. One thing he definitely took note of was there was only _**one**_ bed.

"_If she thinks we are sharing that bed,"_ Thorin thought, remembering what the men in town had been insinuating, "_She is mistaken!"_

As he examined the room, Azira lifted the lid off of one pot and tested the temperature of the water inside. Finding it hot, she poured half of it into a waiting bucket. Then Azira walked over and set it down with a loud _**thunk**_ in front of Thorin, pulling his attention away from the room and back to her.

Suddenly, she reached a hand toward his neck causing Thorin draw back quickly, catching her hand at the wrist as she reached for him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sarcastically, trying and failing to pull out of his grasp," I didn't realize you wanted to bathe with the collar and chain on!"

Thorin glared at Azira, her mouthy, sarcastic attitude really starting to annoy him. Finally, he released her wrist and stood still as she unlocked the collar from his neck and the chain from about his waist.

"Washroom is through there," she stated gesturing toward the door next to the stove before handing him the small leather pack she had been given by the coin changers at the auction and a lit lantern, she then turned back to the stove.

Thorin looked from the bucket of steaming water to Azira then back again, before finally picking it up and heading for the door she had indicated.

* * *

When the door to the washroom closed firmly behind Thorin, Azira released a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging as the weight of the stress of the day fell upon her. Looking down at the pot of stew she was stirring and noticing her hand shaking badly, Azira placed the lid back on the pot and pushed it again toward the back of the stove. Turning away from the stove, Azira fought to bring herself back under control. Bracing her hands on the back of a chair, she could feel the shaking that started in her hands spread throughout her body as tears formed in her eyes from the stress of keeping up this act. It was harder than she thought it would be to keep up the snide, sarcastic attitude around Thorin when all she wanted to do was fall at his feet and beg his forgiveness for what had happened fifteen years ago.

"_I don't deserve his forgiveness," _she thought bitterly, "_Not after all the pain I have caused."_

* * *

Thorin closed the door firmly behind him, relieved to have some peace away from that annoyingly sarcastic woman. He found himself in a small, rustic washroom and more than ever missed the luxuries of Erebor with its indoor plumbing. The washroom contained a low, sanded, wooden shelf with a lid bolted to the top that he assumed was the toilet to his left, an old, wooden vanity with with a wash basin embedded in the top that had a drain in the center that probably led to the same place as the toilet to the right. Over this was a small mirror bolted to the wall and hanging from a hook on the back wall was a large tin wash tub that he assumed was the bathtub. There was also another door that led out of the room, but any hopes of escaping that way were dashed upon seeing it was locked via a keyhole that could be operated from both inside and outside the door.

The only convenience was an indoor hand pump situated above the washbasin to draw water from the well. Thorin sighed, grabbing a washcloth and towel from a shelf by the door, giving up on his thoughts of escaping for now. Opening the pack, he found the same coarse, homespun, tunic and trousers that all the slaves in town were forced to wear. The cream colored tunic with it wide, red, stripes running from the collar to the cuffs of the sleeves marked him as a slave just as much as the iron collar. With a groan, he pulled the dirty tunic over his head, clenching his teeth as it stuck to the wounds on his back from the beating two days prior and pumped some water into the bucket until it was cool enough to use. Finally, he set about getting himself as clean as he could without a full on bath using the bar of obviously handmade soap he found in a cracked stone dish on the vanity, ignoring his reflection in the mirror.

After he was captured, the men had taken everything of value from him. From his sword Orcrist to the beads in his hair. As much as losing his prized sword had angered him, the loss of his hair beads had infuriated him even more. By taking those, the man had not only taken the precious metal and jewels, but his very identity. To anyone who would understand their meaning they had declared everything about him. From his lineage to his status in society, from his chosen craft as a weaponsmith, more significantly a swordsmith, to the black bead he had carved from onyx with runes traced in mithril that he wore in mourning for Kara. For the first time in over a hundred years, he wore neither braid nor bead thanks to the men that had captured him and his company.

Thorin finally dressed, having gotten as clean as he was going to get, and left the washroom hoping to find out more about Azira's plan to get him home.

* * *

Azira looked up as Thorin exited the washroom, having finally gotten her emotions back under control. She gave the stew one last stir before going to the one window by the door and looking out. She then turned and without a word, gathered her clean clothes that she had laid out, grabbed her bucket of hot water and entered the washroom, closing the door quietly behind her. Thorin stared after her in shock for a moment.

"_Is she so foolish as to trust that I will not just walk out the door,"_ he thought as he stared after her, feeling sorely tempted to do so.

However, the thought of leaving was swept from his mind a moment later when he heard a scratching sound outside.

Thorin was looking around for something to defend himself when the door was suddenly pushed open and he figured out why Azira was not worried about him leaving. For in walked Nightmare carrying a large bone in her mouth. The warg cocked her head to the side at Thorin's slightly surprised look before pushing the door closed with one of her hind paws. Unfortunately, just as the door closed, a gust of wind blew in over Nightmare's back, engulfing Thorin in the smell of wet fur. Thorin coughed a bit and turned his head away from the stench as the warg walked further into the house. Nightmare stopped in front of Thorin, placing the bone on the floor before sniffing at him.

"Well, at least you don't smell like an orc's backside anymore!" she growled with a wolfy grin.

"You're one to talk," Thorin retorted, wrinkling his nose at the smell of her wet fur.

"What! I bathed after my hunt," Nightmare responded, sounding offended, "I took a bath in the river. Which is far better than that groundwater you all insist on using."

"Really," Thorin scoffed in disbelief, both at her statement and the fact that he was even talking to a warg without it trying to kill him.

"Oh, you don't believe me?" the warg asked, "Fine."

Thorin caught the mischievous look in her eyes almost too late as she stretched out her head toward him. He threw his arms up in protection right at the last minute as she suddenly shook herself, sending large droplets of water in every direction, nearly soaking Thorin completely. Thorin glared at the warg, trying to ignore the water now dripping from his hair and face as a cacophony of hissing was raised from the hot stove as the water hit it.

"Nightmare, you better not have just done I think you did!" Azira yelled from the washroom upon hearing the hissing.

"What?" Nightmare called back sounding as innocent as possible and suddenly Thorin was reminded of the tone that Fili and Kili took when they got caught during one of their pranks.

Seeing a piece of his beloved nephews in this warg surprised Thorin, having not thought that Wargs were anything more than vicious beasts.

"If my bed is wet, I swear you will sleep in the barn!" Azria yelled back.

Nightmare trotted quickly over to the neatly made bed, nosing through the covers with a slightly worried look on her face.

"No, it's dry," she yelled back before trotting back to reclaim her bone.

She gave Thorin one last, mischievous grin before walking over and settling down on the pile of blankets next to the fireplace.

Azira finally exited the washroom and, taking in Thorin's wet appearance, tossed him the towel she had brought with her.

"Must you cause trouble?" she reprimanded Nightmare.

"It was his fault!" the warg responded sounding like a petulant child.

Azira just rolled her eyes with a sigh, then walked to a basket of woven reeds and placed her dirty clothes inside. Finally, she returned to the stove and dished up the supper of bread and stew. As she placed it on the table, Thorin's stomach gave a loud growl reminding him the meager lunch they had eaten on the road had been his first meal in two days and that was hours ago.

Azira placed the food on the table and motioned for Thorin to join her. They ate in silence for a while, Thorin watching as she untucked the bottom of her veil and carefully maneuvered the spoon and bread underneath. Finally, after the meal was eaten and cleared away Azira decided it was time to talk.

"You asked about the plan to get you home earlier," she started, catching and holding Thorin's attention immediately.

"So you do have a plan," Thorin replied and Azira nodded.

"In three weeks we leave for my trap lines," she began to explain, "You will come with us at least part of the way. Then Nightmare will take you the fastest way possible back to your mountain."

"Three weeks!" Thorin exclaimed angrily, "I have been away from Erebor. Away from my family for six months. What is stopping me from leaving by myself tonight?"

"You mean other than your infamous sense of direction?" Azira snapped and Thorin glared at her wondering where she had heard that story.

Though it did not surprise him, for it seemed like everyone from Erebor to Ered Luin had heard about it.

"Go ahead," she said, gesturing toward the door, "There's the door, We're not going to stop you. Though I give you two days, three top before you are captured again or killed."

"I may be more resourceful than you think," Thorin snarled back, offended at how she underestimated him.

"Maybe," she conceded with an uncaring shug, "But you are unarmed and have no idea where you are, do you?"

Thorin glared at her angrily before looking away, unwilling to admit she was right.

"Let me enlighten you as to your geographical location," Azira said, "To the east are the Misty Mountains, to the west the Ettenmoors, town is northwest of here and to the northeast…"

"Gundabad," Thorin said softly cutting her off, finally realizing that he was in a lot more danger than he had initially thought.

He had not realized that his captures had brought his company so far west.

"Nightmare can get you to the other side of the mountains a lot quicker and safer," Azira continued.

"And you will not be coming?" Thorin asked.

"No, my place is watched, so leaving early would look suspicious and I need to be at my cabin to make it look like we are all there," she replied, "Besides, I'm not exactly welcome near dwarf cities."

Thorin studied her more closely after this statement, but could discern nothing with her face still covered by her veil.

"How do you expect me to trust someone who's face I have yet to see?" he asked cautiously.

Azira lifted her hand to her veil self consciously, tracing her finger along the top for a moment.

"There's safety in anonymity, she replied, "And that means just as much to me as any jewel or bit of gold from your mountain means to you. I mean you no harm King Under the Mountain, you have my word."

Again Thorin could hear the sincerity in her strangely accented voice.

Azira rose then, signaling an end to the conversation and turned toward the bed with a thoughtful look.

"The bed is yours if you want," she said with a nod toward it, "I don't mind curling up next to Nightmare. It wouldn't be the first time."

Thorin looked at her in shock, as this was not what he had thought she would decide.

"There's no need. My manners are not so far gone that I would allow a woman to sleep on the floor while I sleep in a bed," Thorin replied, raising his hand to keep her from cutting him off, "I have slept in worse places than on the floor next to a warm hearth."

Azira nodded her head, choosing not to engage in a fight that she would not win and handed him some bedding from the small trunk at the foot of the bed.

"One more thing," Thorin said and Azira turned back to look at him, "What do you expect me to do for the next three weeks?"

"Um," Azira replied and cocked her head assessingly, "How good are your acting abilities?"

**~Erebor~**

Dis stood on the battlements of the gates, watching as the sun set in the west. Just outside the gates, Dwalin was taking a report from a newly arrived search party. After taking the report and dismissing the troops, he turned back to the mountain. Seeing the Princess of Erebor waiting, he quickly climbed the stairs to join her.

"Varfick and his men all settled," he asked and Dis nodded without even looking away from the sunset.

"Any news from the search?" she asked.

"No," Dwalin answered, before reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder, "We'll find them Dis."

Dis turned to look at her cousin who was almost as close as a brother to her, trying to draw some strength from him.

"Don't give up hope," Dwalin implored, and Dis nodded before turning back to the now darkened scenery.

"_Where are you, Nadad?"_ she thought.


	6. Respect

**Hey everyone, sorry this took me so long. I realized when I started this chap that I had written myself into a corner timeline wise. So I had to go back to my maps of Middle Earth and figure it out with the timeline I had already written. Thank you for your patience and as a reward here is an extra long chap for you. Please enjoy, read and review. **

* * *

**~Erebor~**

A certain steward sat in the royal council room of Erebor next to the magistrate his Lord had sent to represent them to Prince Fili. It had taken him two months to get here and he could not be more pleased with how things were turning out. He had hoped to occupy his Lord to Saccure when he left five months ago, however, he had been ordered to go to Erebor to make sure nothing interfered with their careful planning. So, as ordered, he had left for Erebor three months after his Lord had left for Saccure and had arrived just the night before

"As I said," Prince Fili growled in irritation at one of the representatives, "I am not ready to give up hope that my Uncle will be found alive. The search for him and his company will continue!"

Prince Kili sat to his right and Captain Dwalin, Warchief of Erebor, sat to his left, both glaring at the councilors who were daring to argue with the Crown Prince's decision.

The Steward simply smiled to himself, as Prince Fili was playing right into his Lord's plans.

"_This just proves he is unworthy to be heir to the throne,"_ the Steward thought derisively, "_What dwarf turns down the opportunity to seize power when it is offered to him? I guess that is what happens when you name a weakling for your heir and then allow him to marry a pathetic Human!" _

Seeing that the Crown Prince was not going to change his mind, the council adjourned a few moments later. The Steward left the council room with his magistrate, a self-satisfied smile on his face. The only thing that was bothering him was the fact that he had received an urgent raven from the magistrate when he had been only two days away from Erebor.

He had just turned to question the Magistrate when a horribly familiar voice caught his attention.

"Good job, lad" it said, causing him to turn quickly, "Your Uncle will be real proud of how your are handling this situation."

Standing with Princes Fili and Kili was a dwarf with long chestnut brown hair and who was slightly shorter than them, which was not saying much considering almost all the dwarrow from the Line of Durin were known to be unusually tall with Dwalin son of Fundin being the tallest. The Steward ground his teeth in angry recognition.

"What is _**he**_ doing here?!" he snapped at the Magistrate lowly.

"That's the reason I sent you the raven," the Magistrate answered quickly, drawing him away from the crowd, "He arrived here last week."

The Steward continued to glare at brown haired dwarf's back.

"_Varfick son of Vokkag, just what we didn't need!"_ he thought angrily, as this was exactly why his Lord had sent him here.

Varfick had been a thorn in the Steward and his Lord's sides for the last fifteen years, ever since his sister had "_**disappeared."**_

"I know our Lord does not care for the Lord of Ered Mithrin," the Magistrate continued, drawing the Steward's attention back to him, "And that he would want to know that Lord Varfick has had a number of private meetings with the royal family."

The Magistrate's words caused the Steward to pause and collect himself, as he remembered that the Magistrate knew nothing about their Lords plans. The simple reason being that the dwarrow had the reputation of having an overly loose tongue when he had one too many ales. The Steward had wondered why his Lord kept the dwarrow around. His Lord's explanation was that the Magistrate was a "Useful idiot," and would be the one that everything came back on should their plans fail.

"I have a message to send," the Steward said, having regained his pleased facade, "Let me know if there are further developments with the council."

* * *

Varfick had just finished accepting Fili's invitation to join his family for lunch when he caught sight of a familiar dwarrow over the Prince's shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at the two dwarrow speaking on the other side of the room, anger filling him.

"What is he doing here?" Varfick asked, nodding toward the Steward's now retreating back.

"Apparently, their Lord doesn't trust the Magistrate to do his job," Kili scoffed, as Fili had just been called away by another representative, "So he is here to check up on him."

"Why?" the younger dwarf asked raising a brow at the Lord of Ered Mithrin.

"You shouldn't trust him," Varfick snarled, "He and his Lord are nothing more than snakes!"

"What," Kili answered, surprised by Varfick's anger, "Do you think they were involved in…"

"All I have is the uncorroborated story I told you, the little bit of evidence and my suspicions," Varfick answered with a shake of his head, "Definitely not enough to accuse a sitting Lord."

* * *

The Steward made his way up to the rookery on Raven Hill. Selecting a strong looking raven, he tied the rolled up parchment, with his message to his Lord about the presence of the Son of Vokkag at Erebor, to the bird's leg and then released it to the sky.

* * *

Later that night, Kili lay in bed his arms holding his wife as she slept, his mind going over everything he had learned this past week. The biggest surprise being that his Uncle had been engaged before the fall of Erebor to Smaug. Learning that Lord Varfick's sister, Kara, had been Thorin's One had been quite a shock, seeing as Kili had thought his Uncle married to his job as ruler and provider for their people. Looking down at Tauriel as she slept, his hand moving to softly cradle her abdomen and the new life within that she had just told him about two weeks ago, Kili could not imagine the pain Thorin had gone through fifteen years ago upon being told his One had died. Though it did explain his Uncle's sudden change around that time. Thorin had suddenly started taking on more jobs outside the mountain or holing himself up in his personal forge when there.

Tauriel moved restlessly in her sleep, possibly sensing her husband's anxious thoughts. This pulled Kili out of his memories, he then sighed, pulling Tauriel closer, and prayed to Mahal that they would find Thorin and the others soon.

**~Saccure~**

The first week saw Azira and Thorin falling in somewhat of a routine. They rose early, with Azira being the first one up. This surprised Thorin the first day as he had not heard her moving around and had woken to find his breakfast waiting on the table and Azira engaged in training with one of her weapons outside. He soon found out that Azira walked very quietly, though not as quietly as an elf, and filed that away should he need to be aware of her movements at a later date.

After breakfast, Azira showed Thorin to a small forge out back of the barn. Upon inspecting it, he could see that though the bellows had seen better days and the chimney needed cleaning, the forge was usable. There were also several broken traps laid on the workbench which explained why she had bought the scrap iron.

"_Someone has been stealing from her traps."_ he thought, after examining the damage that had been obviously done by someone forcing it open.

Azira then left him to his work, to which Thorin was both surprised and grateful as he still had much to think about.

As he fired up the forge, the one thing on his mind was this company's capture. From what he overheard the Master saying, the men had been paid to capture them.

"_Who would have reason to do this? And why?"_ Thorin thought before an answer came to him, causing him to stop working altogether.

He completely hated the thought, but at the moment it was the only explanation he had. Varfick _**had**_ been overly insistent that he come to Ered Mithrin personally and had been the only one outside the company and those close to them that knew what route they were taking. It pained Thorin deeply to think that a dwarf that had been a close friend and very nearly family would betray him.

Thorin continued working, so lost in his thoughts and work that it was only a shout from close over his shoulder that finally caught his attention. Thorin turned and had to forcibly keep himself from flinching back when he found Nightmare standing close behind him as he was not all that comfortable at letting a Warg so close when he was unarmed.

"Are you deaf?" she snarled, " I have been trying to get your attention for several minutes."

"What do you want," Thorin snarled back.

"Alpha says lunch in ready," Nightmare replied before looking him up and down, mischief sparking in her eyes, "Though you may want to clean up at the pump outside the barn. You stink!"

Thorin rolled his eyes at the Warg, before marching past her and out of the forge, ignoring her laughter.

* * *

Azira cleaned up the breakfast dishes and began to plan her day, Thorin having left for the forge. In the last week they had settled into a routine that relatively kept them out of each other's way during the day and the nights were spent quietly going about small tasks by the fire until they retired to their respective beds. Azira straightened with a groan, looking around, taking note of what chores needed to be done. Turning to the left of the stove, a sudden musky scent hit her nose and she knew what needed to be done first.

She then headed for the washroom and wrestled the large, tin, wash tub outside and positioned it under a tree at the edge of the tall grass. She then unraveled some twine and then strung it from tree to tree. Finally, having her clothesline strung, she began the task of filling the tub with water warmed on the stove before grabbing what needed to be washed first.

* * *

Thorin stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow, before checking the time, not wanting to work through lunch again. He was finding himself getting increasingly lost in his work here and, if it weren't for the circumstances that brought him here, he could very well start to envy Azira her quiet cottage in the woods here. With the rebuilding of Erebor and getting his people settled back in, he found he had little time to spend at his forge, something he had always enjoyed. Thorin sighed and gave a shake of his head, feeling ungrateful for thinking such nonsense. He had been truly blessed to regain his homeland.

Seeing that he still had time until lunch, and to turn his mind to more productive matters, Thorin picked up his bucket and went to refill the water before returning to work. He was only halfway through the barn when he suddenly heard loud shouting out front. He then dropped his bucket and started to run toward the shouting. Coming to the front, Thorin stopped and stepped back in the doorway, the sight that met his eyes had him biting his lip to keep from laughing. Azira was dragging a couple of old, large, dark-colored, blankets out of the house with Nightmare close on her heels. She had hung her cloak on a tree branch, though she still wore her veil and headscarf, and had her sleeves rolled up past her elbows, revealing skin far fairer than Thorin had expected for one from Harad.

"Please, Alpha, doooon't," the Warg whined loudly, grabbing one of the blankets in her mouth and tried to pull it back.

"Nightmare, stop, they need to be washed," Azira reprimanded, pulling the blanket back and continued to head toward a tin wash tub set up under a tree, "They stink!"

"No, they don't!" Nightmare answered, sounding slightly offended, "Their fine!"

"Nightmare, I am tired of my house smelling like wet warg," Azira sighed, sounding like a tired parent, a tone Thorin had heard from his sister when she was done with Fili and Kili's antics.

"Secondly, you know there will be no time or space when we get to the cabin for me to wash them," she continued.

She then turned and tossed both blankets into the wash tub before working them over a scrub board.

"Great," Nightmare whined again, "Now you got them all dirty again!"

"Nightmare it's soap," Azira said, turning to stare at the warg incredulously, "It's the definition of clean."

"To you maybe," Nightmare sneered, curling her lip in disgust, "To me that stuff reeks and now its going to take me forever to get those smelling good again!"

Azira stared at Nightmare for a second before splashing some of the soapy water on the warg's shoulder. Her reaction was immediate.

"Alpha, nooooooo," the warg whined, throwing herself to the ground and began to roll around to wipe the water off.

Azira began to laugh before splashing another handful of water on the warg.

"You are lucky that I don't throw your smelly butt in here and give _**you**_ a good scrubbing," she threatened jokingly.

"UH UH," Nightmare shouted, jumping to her feet, "NO WAY!"

She then bolted off through the tall grass toward the woods, leaving Azira and Thorin laughing at her hurried retreat.

* * *

After lunch, Azira went around the small cottage gathering clothes to wash, wanting to finish the laundry and get it in before sunset. After gathering her clothes, she headed for Thorin's bedroll in the corner of the hearth opposite where Nightmare slept. She picked up the leather satchel, flipped the top open and then almost dropped it as the stench of sweat, dirt, and what smelled like horse manure hit her nose. Azira, eyes watering from the smell coming off the clothes, closed the satchel and carried it with all the other clothes out to the wash tub. She was just pulling the clothes out of the satchel and putting them in the wash tub when something caught her eye.

At the bottom of the satchel was a tunic that had some strange marks on it. After taking it out and looking at it , Azira's eyes went wide. She grabbed the tunic and marched off , through the barn to the doorway to the forge. Thorin had just hung a newly fixed trap on the wall when Azira came marching in.

"Why didn't you tell me you were injured?" she snapped upon entering the forge.

"Because, I'm not," Thorin answered flatly, unwilling to admit to the shameful circumstances for which he had been beaten last week.

"So your tunic just naturally has blood on the back?" she replied sarcastically, brandishing the tunic at him.

"I'm fine," he snapped, glaring at her, "Can I get back to work now?"

"Let me see your back." she demanded before reaching for his shoulder.

"NO!" he snarled, getting right in her face this time, "I said,'' I'm fine.""

To her credit, Azira did not back down. She glared at him angrily, her fists clenched at her sides. In the heat of the argument neither of them had noticed Nightmare having returned.

"Fine, you want to get an infection and die, go right ahead, see if I care!" she yelled back in his face.

"'**Ant ghabiu aleanid!"** she snarled at him in a language he did not understand before turning on heel and storming back out.

Thorin's jaw dropped, even though he did not understand what she had just said, it had been several years since someone outside his close kin had spoken to him in such a way. Thorin clenched his jaw as his temper began to build in his chest and stomped out of the forge to settle this argument. He may not be king here but he was done being treated with such disrespect.

He arrived at the door to the barn in time to see her throw the tunic in the wash tub and then scrub it so violently on the scrub board that he expected it to be full of holes when she pulled it out of the water next.

"But you do care," a voice suddenly stopped him from exiting and he watched as Nightmare appeared from the other side of the barn and walked over to sit next to Azira.

"What?" Azira's head shot up.

"You do care, Alpha," Nightmare repeated, "Otherwise you would not be doing this."

Azira sighed and turned back to the laundry.

"Why?" Nightmare asked.

"What?" Azira asked again.

"Why are you doing this," Nightmare repeated, "I don't understand."

"I am doing this because it's the right thing to do," Azira sighed, sitting back on her heels, "He's important to his people."

"The line of Durin always has been," she said softly to herself.

"I still don't understand. You are going to do this for people you don't know, that haven't shown you a lick of loyalty," Nightmare continued, still looking confused, "What do you hope to get out of it."

"Nightmare," Azira sighed, wringing out the remaining clothes in the tub, "You do the right thing because it is the right thing. Even if you get no benefit from it."

She then stood and turned to pin the clothes on the line.

"You know we are going to have to leave here after this," Nightmare answered softly.

"Yes, I know," Azira replied and Thorin felt shock wipe out any anger left in him.

"The Master is going to want both our heads when he finds out." Azira continued.

"Oh, he already wants mine," Nightmare answered flippantly.

"Well, you did not have to eat his horse," Azira replied dryly, turning to look at Nightmare with raised brows.

"Hey, he doesn't know it was me. He only suspects," Nightmare replied, looking completely innocent, "There are plenty of other dangerous creatures that roam these woods. Besides he was rude to you for no reason! "

Azira merely looked at Nightmare in disbelief.

"On a side note," Nightmare continued, the look on her face going from innocent to mischievous in an instant, "That horse was DELICIOUS!"

Azira laughed before throwing her arm around the warg's shoulders.

"Come on, we have time until these dry," Azira said, leading the warg to the house, "We might as well look over the maps and plan your route."

Thorin stood in the shadow of the barn door and watched as the woman and the warg entered the house, his mind going over the conversation he had overheard. He was not used to others sacrificing for him. As ruler of and provider for his people, it was his job to make sure that all his people had what they needed to prosper. He was the one that should have to make sacrifices if necessary. This was something he had learned the hard way ten years ago. His brief slip into madness had nearly cost him everything he held dear. Now, here was this woman that he barely knew sacrificing her home and livelihood to see he got his back.

"_If this does not show she deserves my trust,"_ Thorin thought with a sigh, "_Then nothing will."_

With this thought, he hung his leather apron on a nearby hook and headed for the house.

"Are you sure you want to go that way?" Azira asked looking to Nightmare as they studied the map, "It's very dangerous."

"But, it's also the quickest way," Nightmare explained, "And if we plan this for the night of the new moon, I can slip us through."

"Okay," Azira said with a nod, "I'll trust your judgement on this, just be careful."

"I will, Alpha," Nightmare responded, leaning her forehead against Azira's for a moment.

Azira reached up and ruffled the fur between her ears before turning back to the map.

"So where do you want to move to," she asked.

"Can we go anywhere?" Nightmare asked in wonder.

"As long as we can find shelter and food we should be alright," Azira responded.

"Can we go to the Sea?" Nightmare asked gently touching the map with her nose, indicating the spot southwest of the Blue Mountains next to where the Brandywine fed into the sea.

"The Sea, huh?" Azira asked, continuing to study the map.

"Yeah, I wanna see the Sea," Nightmare chuckled at her own joke before turning thoughtful, "Can you drink it?"

"Drink what?" Azira asked, confused by the sudden change in topic.

"The Sea is just water, right?" Nightmare replied, "Can you drink it?"

"Well… uh," Azira tried to answer, but knew little on the subject having never been to the Sea herself.

"No, you can't," a deep voice answered from the doorway.

They both turned in surprise to see Thorin standing there.

"Why," Nightmare asked, forgetting any animosity for the moment for the sake of satisfying her curiosity for the world outside these woods.

"Because it's salt water," Thorin answered patiently as if he were talking to a child.

"Oh," was all the answer he got.

"Can we still go?" Nightmare turned back to Azira.

"We will talk about it later," she answered, never taking her eyes off of Thorin.

Thorin walked further into the cottage, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"I owe you an apology for my words and actions earlier," he said.

Azira inclined her head humbly, choosing to not make this any more painful for him.

"Are you injured?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he answered lowly, turning his head "I did not tell you because the reason for my injury and the way it happened is shameful."

"Would you like me to look?" Azira asked, deciding not to ask how and why but let him tell her if and when he wanted to, "I'm no healer, however a friend taught me how to make some ointments that will stave off infection."

Thorin looked indecisive for a moment before nodding and loosening the ties on the front of his tunic. Azira quickly turned and grabbed a jar from her shelf and ran to the washroom to get a rag and filled a small bowl with water. When she came back, Thorin sat with his back to her without his tunic on. Azira could feel her face heat in a blush and thanked the Valar that he could not see it. Focusing on his back, Azira winced at the sight of the deep lash marks, at least twenty of them, covering his back.

"Are you not going to ask?" Thorin growled lowly, feeling embarrassed to even have her seeing wounds like this.

"If you want me to know," Azira replied carefully, "You will tell me."

Thorin stared at her over his shoulder as she began to carefully clean each lash mark before sighing.

"Trust has to start somewhere," Thorin replied, "And you have earned mine."

Their eyes met for just a moment before they both looked away at the same time.

"The town Master was the first person to _**own**_ me," he snarled, "He was the one who captured my company."

"Company?" Azira asked, as a few pieces fell together for her, "I am going to guess that a Mister Bofur was part of that company."

Thorin turned suddenly in surprise.

"Where…" Thorin started.

"He's at the mercantile in town," Azira replied to his unspoken question, "The man who runs it bought him."

Thorin nodded with a sigh. "At least I know where one of them is now."

Azira just nodded, continuing her work and waited to see if he would finish his story. They were quiet for a while, the only sound coming from Nightmare chewing on a bone over by the hearth.

"The Master used me as his personal blacksmith and his daughter took a liking to me," Thorin finally continued, "However when I refused to bed her, she ran to her father and told him I forced myself upon her."

At this Azira snorted derisively, causing Thorin to glare indignantly over his shoulder at her.

"You don't believe me?!" he snarled.

"Oh, quite the contrary," she responded, placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from getting up, "Everyone in the area knows that the Master's daughter will lay with anything male that walks even remotely upright. The Master, however, is under the false conception that his daughter is as pure as driven snow."

"Well you can see what he did in regards to her accusation," Thorin answered with a gesture to his back.

"What kind of man ties another down and beats him?" he suddenly spat furiously.

"The same one who thinks it is right to sell other people for profit," Azira replied as she gently wrapped bandages around his torso.

Thorin then stood and put his tunic back on, though he did not miss the way Nightmare stared intently at the large scar on the left side of his chest. He merely raised a brow at the warg, but got no reply. He then turned to face Azira.

"If you are letting me go," Thorin suddenly asked, "Why will you two have to leave?"

"Because the Master does not suffer fools lightly and his rule is if one of your slaves escapes and is not found, you take their place," Azira answered, realizing that he must have overheard her and Nightmare talking earlier, " And he is going to be furious, especially after he learns who you are. So it is better if we leave the area."

Thorin nodded in understanding.

"I did not expect, nor would I have asked, for you to sacrifice your home and livelihood for me," he replied, "You have my respect and utmost gratitude."

With this said he extended his hand and Azira clasped his wrist as a fellow warrior. Thorin smiled slightly at this, having expected nothing else as she was completely different from any woman or dwarrowdam he had ever met.

* * *

**'Ant ghabiu aleanid: You stubborn idiot! Translated from Arabic, thank you Google Translate!**


End file.
